The Boon of Alon

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

Considering the size of Iamon's teeth, my tunic is remarkably salvageable. I work on it during my breaks that day, and set Suthi's slightly oily shirt aside to be laundered, and all day riders and recruits alike stop me to ask about the morning's events. Even if people weren't talking about me much before, anymore, I'm certainly a hot topic today.

Iamon is nowhere to be found the next morning. Maybe he's thinking about what, if anything, to tell me; maybe he's avoiding me. Maybe he'll show up later. I spend all morning looking over my shoulder, in case he flies in or the rebels come try to kill me again, but nothing happens.

The morning after that, though, he's waiting by the trail. Not close enough that everyone heading down has to avoid him, this time, but as soon as I'm off the stairs his head swings up to track my progress down the mountain. So, when I get close enough, I pick my way off the trail to go meet him; he watches me approach, huffing slow clouds of steam into the cold air.

"Morning," I say, with a new level of caution that would make Chama proud if she were back yet. For all I know, Iamon has decided he doesn't need to tell me anything after all—or that my doubting him means I'm unfit to be a rider.

He's unusually gentle when he noses into my stomach, though. "Good morning. I have thought about your concerns."

He's still a little grumbly, but he isn't growling at me, or even glaring, so I have hope. "Did you come to any conclusions?"

"You questioned my intentions," he states, "but they cannot be proven, only demonstrated."

"I...guess so?" I don't think I could see into his head even if we were bonded, so...yeah, I never could really know his intentions. Just guess based on what he's done. "So far, you've caused me a lot of misery."

"Less than there could have been," he grumbles. "And you have not reached the intended outcomes yet. But you cannot see that," he adds before I can point this out. "I must also remind you that I have saved your life."

There is that.

"Furthermore—you are under the common but mistaken impression that there is one singular future. There is not. There are only possibilities."

What?

I mean—Chama's been telling me about the various ways the rebel prophecy could come true, but that all leads to the same place, doesn't it? Even if there are possibilities on the way, it's supposed to converge on that one point.

"Then what the fuck is a prophecy?" I ask.

"Complicated," he says.

I open my mouth to protest but he huffs out a plume of smoke and I have to cough instead.

"Some paths are more likely than others," he continues while I'm occupied, pushing into my shaking chest. "The right words can all but guarantee them."

"All but?" I echo with a wheeze, waving the air clear.

"All but," he repeats. Then even Iamon admits the future he's laid out for me isn't guaranteed.

I really do have the choice.

"You couldn't have told me this sooner?" I grumble. It would've saved me a lot of angst even a couple weeks ago.

"You weren't ready to hear it," he says.

"It was what I wanted to hear!"

"Exactly." He nudges me. "You were looking for an escape. You needed to accept that there is none."

"You just said–"

"A vanishingly small chance, where the Pangessan rebels are concerned," he growls, "that would do us all a disservice if you pursued it."